A Costly Illusion
by Cooper Sterling
Summary: .." Maybe someday he’d run into someone else, and he’d tell this new person that he lost his puppy Buck to the zombies, and their two cats, Little Rock and Wichita."...Rated for safety. Pre-Slash for Columbahassee... SALF HARM AND CHAR DEATH


**Hello......This is my first attempt at a Zombieland fanfiction, and what more, my first attempt at something this hurting and angsty..... I totally believe in Columbahassee...... Or Talumbus ...Or whatever its been decided to be called by people....... I just really like the Columbus and Tallahassee pairing, so this is a real jump for me to try....I shortened Irritable Bowel Syndrome to IBS....So....Just letting you know so we don't lose some understanding...**

**Right....**

**Um...**

**WARNING STUFF: SELF HARM AND CHARACTER DEATHS.....................But there's some fluffy at the end. At least, I tried for fluffy.....But enough of my ramblings. LET THE STORY BEGIN.**

* * *

I never thought the day would come where I would be thankful for IBS, but come it did. It gave me an excuse. One more deserted rest stop, my last. Can't say I'd miss it. There were no other cars in the parking lot when the hummer pulled in, because really, who'd stop to rest in a zombie apocalypse? Exactly.

It was so handy that Tallahassee kept those knives around everywhere. So useful. For everything from opening cans, to cutting open the latest gadget box (Why are they always so fucking hard to open?) that they'd taken to amuse themselves, to getting orange out of your teeth, to killing zombies… I didn't need one of those huge ones. Just one to put into the pocket of my sweatshirt, and…There it was. Right size, right width, like it was made specifically. The handle had those nice ridges for good grip…Good. I didn't want to fuck it up.

Tallahassee made it a point to just get out of the truck and pee on the nearest tree. Figures. After everything, and he'll just go on like normal. Maybe someday he'd run into someone else, and he'd tell this new person that he lost his puppy Buck to the zombies, and their two cats, Little Rock and Wichita.

There'd be no mention of Columbus, their annoying little pet that had totally failed to keep the cats safe.

Same drill as always as I slip into the rest room. I'm met by white tiles, cream stalls, porcelain urinals, clean sinks. I do a run through of it all, slam the butt of my double barrel to the door, listen to the resounding boom that echoes around me in this bathroom, and move on to the next.

Except after the last one, I don't grab a length of toilet paper and head over to the cleanest stall to do my business.

No, instead, I rest my back against the corner where orderly wall meets orderly wall. I slide down until I'm sitting, and slip the knife back out of my pocket and look it over, taking in every detail.

I'd never done this before, even though the thought had occurred to me in the past. A lot.

But with a calm and set face that betrayed my inexperience, I pressed the knife against one wrist, perpendicular to the blue and green veins that ran along it. Then quite simply, I pushed the blade in and across, gasping at the feeling, but nothing louder than that.

One cut for the zombie I'd never seen. The zombie that changed everything. The zombie, that was to my mind, the Black Angel of Death in the flesh…er, rotting flesh. The zombie that had moved too quick, that had taken Wichita before the woman could blink. The zombie that had mercilessly ripped into her flesh, tore into the throat for the soft blood rich tissues, that had spread the intestines everywhere, trying to eat everything at once, while it was steaming and hot…

I'd only heard about how this worked. It actually did. It actually made some of it lessen. And knowing that the bad feelings would all be gone by the time I drifted off made it all the more better.

One cut for Wichita. For all of her smiles and quirks. The one and only woman in this world who could've been a mother and a sister at the same time, and do it in a zombie apocalypse, and all with a certain sense of grace and mannerism to it. For her screams and thrashes as she tried to fight it out to the very last drop of blood.

I was breathing harder now….My pants echoed across the bathroom, coming back to bit at me, those sounds the same as I'd run back to the hummer. We'd left as a trio to go find some vitamins. I came back alone.

One cut for Little Rock. For watching. For listening. For crying, for sobbing as her sister's screams died away. For being ever faithful, for being that obedient puppy, for following her sister to the ends of the earth and beyond. For giving up. For throwing herself to the waiting horde, and only screaming twice as the cannibals ripped into her in much the same way, surrendering just to be with her sister once more.

I paused, watching the way the blood ran off in smooth streams, smooth dribbles that fell across my pale skin that dripped down onto the ground. My head felt lighter, like it rising without the rest of me….But it shouldn't have been going up. It should have been going down. There was no doubt in my mind. I would go to hell for what had happened.

One cut for our shattered family. Maybe never the most functional group of people, but people that loved each other cared for each other. A family that would never again be whole. The first and only real family I'd ever had, and I'd watched it ripped to pieces, spilled over the group, and devoured by ravenous fucked up zombies.

I pressed the knife higher, blinking to keep my vision straight enough to make this next cut. I started to draw it across.

One cut for-

I was interrupted halfway across.

"Shit, kid." Tallahassee must've gotten bored waiting… Or maybe it was that predator's instinct and he could sense the blood….Or maybe he had just put two and two together and decided leaving me alone after that wasn't the best idea…..

One hand grabbed the wrist that held the knife, jerking it up sharply from my skin. It clattered to the floor, bouncing off of my jeans and leaving a red smear along the way. My eyes followed it down, to where the blood was running down the drain, the starkest of contrasts between white and red.

His other hand moved over the rolled up sleeve, gently moving its way down my arm, and he wrapped those calloused fingers around the cuts. It didn't hurt…The area was numb. Nice and numb. Just like the rest of me, those painful thoughts even running down the drain, swirling themselves away in that blood and-

"Columbus, I…… They……… Just fuck."

It's like Tallahassee's trying to apologize for something, which makes no sense. No sense at all. He wasn't there. He didn't miss that zombie. He didn't fail to grab Little Rock as she flung herself forward. He didn't totally fuck up our family.

I did.

"…..I...Fucked up, big time…. My fault, Tallahassee………It's my goddamned fault…" The admission hurt more than I thought it was going to. I looked up at him with hazy eyes.

"I am so fucking sorry." And that was all I really cared to say after that, dropping my head limply. I couldn't look at him…Not after that… I felt the tears slide down my face, feeling hot. They dropped off simply and mixed with the blood.

There was no answer from above. I could just see it, Tallahassee's face contorted with rage and hate, and I just wished he would fucking hit me or something, because it was suddenly taking too long to bleed out, and I just wanted it over…..

But what came next was unexpected.

The hands let go of my wrists, and those strong arms found a new occupation.

Tallahassee wrapped his arms around me, and pressed his face into a spot just a little above my temple. I felt tears slide down. I wasn't the only one beat up with this. It hit me like a brick. He was hurting just as bad and….he didn't blame me.

And that was all it took for me to begin sobbing. I shook, I cried, and I bled, all into Tallahassee's shoulder. And the whole time, he was whispering things back, little comforting things, things that didn't make it hurt any less, but made it seem okay somehow. I slowly descended into hiccupping, the world swirling around me. I kept blinking, trying to clear my eyes.

It didn't seem to be working.

Tallahassee noticed, and his reply was simple and eloquent.

"Shit."

And like I was nothing more than a little kid, he scooped me up in his arms and lifted the two of us up from our little ring of hell, and we walked, well, scratch that, he walked us back out to the hummer, and set me in the backseat, everything getting hazier. I rested my eyes for a second, just for a second, I swear, and Tally jumped at me.

"Open 'em, kid……Keep the fuck awake."

And then I heard some rummaging around, things getting pushes around, and he scooted into the seat next to me, and pulled me into his lap, which probably should've felt awkward, but just felt…..well…Right.

And then he was talking, all low and soothing again, and I noticed he was bandaging my wrist. But I was too tired to care. Too fucking tired. And he looked up, and started to say this, but Tallahassee knew the words that were coming before he could say them.

"…..Alright……But then we're going to Area 51……We need a vacation."

And I was smiling, I could tell, as I fell asleep, nodding off against that broad chest.


End file.
